Encounter
by Sophia Banks
Summary: "Mycroft Holmes doesn't have many pressure points, his junkie little brother, his children, and you. But you, oh you Isabelle," Magnussen closed his eyes as though in some sort of ecstasy, "You are so frighteningly simple." - Short random One-shot. X)
**Overly short fic that I just had to write out. Wish I had more to put in it but all well *shrug* Enjoy!**

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Isabelle Holmes wore an emerald green dress that sparkled beneath the light of the chandelier, a glass of untouched white wine remained in her right hand; put there by some well-intentioned person assuming that she- _like all adults_ \- drank. The young woman pursed her ruby red painted lips when her husband passed her by yet again in dull conversation with some foreign dignitary or what have you. She felt sorry for him certainly, the subtle twitch of his finger against his own glass spoke of how much he despised the excess of social interaction. Still, he shouldn't have left her alone! Isabelle-with some difficulty- weaved through the crowd until she found a man passing by with drinks. She attempted to place her own onto the tray, managing only to splash some of the contents upon the poor man's shoulder, "Oh, God sorry!" she apologized. He gave her a tolerating smile and a, "No harm done miss," and he took the wine from her hand himself to place upon the black metal circle.

Isabelle fought the urge to bite her lip- a longstanding habit of hers; instead her hand found a loose lock of long chestnut hair which she rolled around her finger continuously. No one really knew who she was without Mycroft. In fact, most didn't even know who was with Mycroft! She was the stranger that stood at her husband's side during social events, holding his hand and muttering words to him that made him smile (of all things!). Isabelle put this down to Mycroft protecting her and wanting to keep his cool façade. What? The Great Mycroft Holmes having a wife and children? No, impossible! And Isabelle didn't mind that all that much, except he always requested her presence when it came to grand dinners and other icky social events.

"Isn't it just dreadful? Mr. Holmes abandoning Mrs. Holmes to be attacked by the leeches."

Isabelle stiffened when a heavily accented voice approached from behind. She willed herself to relax, smile, and face the owner of that voice. The man was of an average height, blonde, and somewhere in his late forties to early fifties. Isabelle ignored his general appearance in favor of the way he stared at her from behind thick lenses. It was as though he was looking straight through her… and he was enjoying it.  
"I-it is a bit unfair I guess, I'm used to it though," she stammered out, turning her gaze briefly upon her husband. Mycroft was laughing. Not really laughing of course, this was a hearty (but not overly so) sort of chuckle. His _real_ laugh was rather like listening to a bellows with a whole in it.  
"I-I uh what's your name?" she forged onwards when she realized the stranger was still staring at her. He smiled faintly, creepily, "Charles Augustus Magnussen," he said softly, his accent adding a certain pleasantness to the name despite it all.  
"Well, Mr. Magnussen," Isabelle extended a hand for him to shake. He accepted it as though he meant to kiss the back; instead he brought it up to his nose and inhaled deeply. Isabelle pulled her hand back quickly, startled.  
The young woman cradled the sniffed hand for a moment, touching the flesh where it felt oddly cold, "I would appreciate if you didn't do that again." Was all she could think to say.

"Isabelle Lillian Holmes, née Long. Father born in America, how telling," he adjusted his glasses with one hand, completely ignoring her splutters of offence, "Your mother was an English girl through and through, both are dead. Two sisters, Maria and Gloria Long."  
Isabelle swallowed thickly, "Mr. Uh, Charles? I don't know what you're doing but…"  
"Always afraid. Always angry. Why does Mr. Holmes put up with you?" his voice remained soft and casual, struggling vaguely through some of the words but paying no mind to this, "So little to you, so boring, so very…Isabelle," he winked.  
Isabelle managed a step back, dearly hoping that someone would cut into the conversation. Running away sounded silly, but to her it was a viable option. This wasn't like talking to Sherlock or Mycroft who threw insults and information around but didn't usually mean to cause offence. This felt as though he had some purpose behind every word- to freak her out!  
"How do you know all this?" she demanded sharply, forcing her gaze to meet his in hopes of appearing less afraid. She shouldn't have been afraid with so many people surrounding her, all likely willing to protect her if she asked…but she was.  
Magnussen exhaled a laugh, stepping towards her. Hand finding and circling her bony wrist, his touch was cold and clammy much to her disgust, "That's the thing is it not? I know nothing," he soothed, leaning towards Isabelle's right ear, "Mycroft Holmes doesn't have many pressure points, his junkie little brother, his children, and you. But you, oh you Isabelle," Magnussen closed his eyes as though in some sort of ecstasy, "You are so _frighteningly_ simple."

Isabelle breathed out shakily, "Let me go or I will scream," she hissed. Goosebumps stood out on her bare arms as cold seemed to sink inside of her. No one ever noticed her. Not even when she was at school. She would raise her hand and the teacher would look around the room as though they couldn't see her and they would call upon someone else! But somehow Isabelle thought that this wasn't the reason no one came to her aid.  
"As you wish," he whispered into her ear, breath tickling her skin. It reminded her terribly of her short interactions with Moriarty- never a good feeling.  
Isabelle didn't dare find out why he hesitated to step away or the cold wetness that came over a small patch of her outer ear! She immediately took it upon herself to slap him across the face, which _finally_ earned the attention of a few stragglers.  
Magnussen adjusted his glasses again and looked about ready to say something when a man Isabelle didn't recognize came towards them with a wholly fake smile on his face, "Charles I've been looking for you this whole evening, you haven't been avoiding me have you?" he chuckled.  
Magnussen smiled a little more broadly at the stranger and returned pleasantries. Isabelle stood dumbly in the wake of the conversation until the stranger shot her a look that basically said " _get out of here already!"_

Isabelle did her best to casually stride away from the two, her heart beating an unsteady rhythm in her chest. She searched the crowds for any sign of her husband when another voice came from behind, "Terribly sorry for abandoning you My Dear."  
Suddenly at complete ease she turned around to face Mycroft, "That's ok Myc," she said, smiling. A nagging fear still lurked around the corner but she forced it to the back of her mind in favor, "I uh, I kept myself busy."  
Mycroft hummed, a brief crease forming between her eyebrows. Isabelle ran a hand across her ear as though it would give away some terrible secret. Her husband's expression did relax and without preamble he extended a hand which had no less than three mini munchables sitting across his tightly locked fingers and palm, "hors d'oeuvre?"  
Isabelle accepted one, "Why thank you," she giggled. It tasted like very little, made up of expensive spices and even more expensive meat and vegetables. Mycroft consumed the two remaining with ease, "I have spoken to everyone that I need to, would you like to head home?" he said, which clearly meant that he was ready and would likely leave her behind if he had to just to get out of there! Isabelle rolled her eyes at him, swallowing the remains of the bite sized snack, "Sure… but how about a dance first?"

As swayed to a slow song across the large expanse of open ballroom, Isabelle thought she could feel the dead eye stare of Magnussen watching. But with Mycroft holding her in his arms muttering a few words of thanks for her having come with him… she couldn't begin to care.

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 **I'm terrible at ending anything. Ever. Just horrific at it! Still, hope you liked this as a whole.**

 **This is an "If Isabelle survived" scenario I believe. Which means that it isn't too long before Magnussen tries to get at Mycroft and he attempted using Isabelle only to find out she isn't hiding anything. So why not just be creepy at her to send them both into a state of unease? Lol**

 **Please review, constructive criticism accepted! ;)**


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